ENTITLED, anthony bridgerton

twenty

chapter twenty of fortunes

I suppose when one inherits a fortune that skips a generation, those who suffer the misfortune of receiving nothing, scorn the ground beneath you walk. However, I never intended to be scorned by my own mother.

It has been 6 months since my mother's departure and my grandfathers death. 6 months since the season ended and since I became a family consisting of 1 member.

I have spent those agonising months wallowing and redecorating the entire house. The patterned walls now lay bare with one colour and the furniture, apart from grandfather's favourites have been replaced with more modern styles.

I haven't visited the town, or farewelled my queen, so I worry for the day I must return. However, my one friend and true companion has kept me company. Sophie, who married her elder gentlemen, spends majority of the year in my large estate. Where we attempt to forget the mistakes we both made in the past.

"Arabella, dear," Sophie sang, barging into my bedroom, with a letter in hand, "Another one, has come for you,".

"Throw it in the dirt, let the farm animals have it," I said, rolling my eyes at the sight of another proposal.

"You ought to write these poor men back," she said, slumping against the comfortable sheets which I lay on.

"Precisely what they are," I muttered, she raised an eyebrow, "Poor men, after the only thing I'm good for... money,". This time she rolled her eyes, clasping her hands together at her waist.

"I suppose that could be a potential reason for all your lovers," she sighed, "But, who are we to judge. It is time for you to step outside of these walls and enjoy the world,".

"I know what you are going to say, but I refuse," Sophie looked at me with pleading eyes, I knew her unspoken question because she has asked me for the entirety of the time we have spent together.

"Join the next season, become the diamond you so deserve, sparkle, Arabella," She kneeled on both knees, a pleading look on her face.

"Sophie...," I had resigned in the middle of the season, I hadn't read a single article published about my departure or heard a single word from people who thought considered me a friend.

It would be all too embarrassing for my to reembark the season, Sophie just wanted a project.

"Consider it, I beg of you," she sighed, before leaving the room and shutting the blue doors behind her.

I laid down, my black tousled hair flowed between my finger tips, occasionally halting at a knot in my hair.

Perhaps, I should get up. Perhaps it was time to do something, perhaps not join the debutants, but maybe gardening.

Before my thoughts could develop further, a loud knock came to my door. There was only one person in the household who knocked that obnoxiously and that was Terrance.

"Enter," I said, not bothering to get up from my less than lady-like position.

"Another copy of Lady Whistledown, My Lady," He said, in his all too teasing voice. The brown haired man, never dared to step foot into my chambers but his trying eyes did scour every inch of the room, sighing when he saw my untouched dinner.

"Terrance, I've come to think you pester me with those copies simply to talk to me," I smiled, bring my self forward and looking at him, "Perhaps you consider me a friend?".

"Whatever you say, My Lady," He smirked, he was a playful one. Astoundingly kind and gentle. I would consider him a friend and he was indeed a good one, except when he insisted on calling me My Lady.

He coughed lightly, breaking me out of my train of thought, "Perhaps, reading it will do you some good," He said, before leaving my room.

I picked up the sheet of paper that sat on my bedside table.

Dearest Reader,

Perhaps my distance does come with woe. Last season was disappointing. One can only hope for more rivalry and lust for the next.

Our most esteemed bachelor, Viscount Bridgerton, remains unattached and ever so without a wife. The ton whisper to the secrecy of his delayed engagement. Perhaps, an unknown young lady is responsible for his troubles, or is he simply not the bachelor we thought him to be.

On another frivolous note, I must say that the marriage market in this ton has grown considerably since the arrival of many new members, one of the most attractive young men, happen to be Prince Desmond Clayton, from France. His staff whisper that he's in search of a woman who left him at the alter in France. Who this woman is, is a mystery, all that can be gathered is that she must indeed live among us.

6 months, have passed since the disappearance of our wealthiest, debutante, who acquired her wealth in the most devious plot yet. At least according to her mother, who has sworn her to be Disowned. So the lack of fun in this town begs you, my dear Arabella Leversay, come back and dazzle us with your stories and your coins. Prove yourself to not be the fiend you are so considered.

The newsletters continued to write stories about people who I had no idea existed. Is this what that town thought of me as? A digger of gold, an mastermind?

Perhaps, it is time to rid that place of misconception. With that final thought, I march down the green staircase and find Sophie. Who looks at me with widened eyes.

"Show me how to sparkle," I say.